


America's Suitehearts

by tabula_rasa



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M, Hiatus era, Soul Punk Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabula_rasa/pseuds/tabula_rasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick reunites with the perfect girl from his past, and Nora's out to prove him wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I was so good back then

**2002**

Nora was wild—at least, that’s how Patrick liked to remember her. She was exciting and beautiful and smart and she was Pete’s girl… For a little while at least.

He remembered when Pete introduced them at band practice one night. He’s sure he mumbled something stupid. He was certainly wishing that he had found her first, but then he felt guilty. Pete was cool and they got along really well.

Despite that friendship, however, he was worried because Pete was notorious for fucking up relationships and breaking girls hearts. Selfishly, Patrick didn’t want to see Nora get hurt. She was vibrant and strong, not one to take anyone’s shit. At least, that’s how Patrick saw her.

That was Patrick, though. At 18, he knew little of girls and a lot about putting them on pedestals. He thought he was just trying to see the best in everyone, but as his very few ex-girlfriends liked to remind him: “No one’s perfect, Patrick.”

Patrick was sure this time that Nora was perfect—but alas, out of his reach. He welcomed her friendship though.

He tried hard to learn as much about her as he could. He tried constantly to make her laugh, the sound of which was (almost) better than any music. Patrick really couldn’t help it when he would constantly tell Pete that he was lucky to have found her.

Pete would just laugh, and remind Patrick that if he just put himself out there more he could find someone just as great or even better than Nora. But Patrick wasn’t so sure cause you know—pedestal.

It wasn’t long until Nora began confiding in him about the depths of her and Pete’s relationship to him. Patrick would listen as she told stories of the sweet things Pete would do for her, which eventually turned to worry that Pete didn’t love her like she loved him. 

He wished he could do something for her, but there was nothing. Patrick knew what was coming, and knew there was no way to stop it. Once Pete had his fill, and he always had his fill, it wasn’t long until he moved on to the next thing.

So he wasn’t surprised when he found Nora at a party hosted by one of Pete’s friends, sitting on the steps out back of the house, an open and almost empty bottle of vodka sitting next to her. 

“Nora?” When she turned her head, he wasn’t shocked to see she had been crying. He let out a sigh and sat next to her.

“Pete’s fucking some whore upstairs.” He heard the bottle sliding against the cement of the stairs and the liquid sloshing around inside. She swallowed loudly before clunking the bottle back down. And then she was crying again. 

Patrick placed a hand on her back, rubbing in soothing circles. He hated to see her like this. He knew Nora deserved better than this, but really what could he do? He wasn’t making excuses for Pete, but he was one of his best friends.

Nora turned so she could hug Patrick, burying her face in his neck while she continued to cry. She pulled away a while later, sniffling and wiping at her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Patrick,” she said, trying to smooth out his t-shirt where she had been gripping it. “I know you and Pete are friends, but he’s a fucking asshole.”

“I’m sorry too,” he said quietly. She gave him the smallest of smiles—it was sad though.

“It’s not your fault.”

She studied him for a moment, before leaning in and kissing him. It was wet and didn’t last long, but he could feel how warm she was and smell the liquor. She pulled away and stood up unsteadily.

“Thank you, Patrick,” she said. “You’re a great friend.”

And then she was gone.

After, Pete dove headfirst into the band, expecting the rest of them to follow, and as usual they did. It wasn’t long after that that things started to take off—they were actually going to make it.

Things were looking up and they were never looking back.


	2. I need to run dry

**2011**

He woke up as suddenly as he passed out, head swimming and legs twisted around hotel sheets which smelled of smoke and something unfamiliar, something feminine.

Patrick closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose willing his head to stop pounding. He couldn’t remember the previous night, not like he was trying very hard. He didn’t see the point of chasing after wisps of memory that were like water between your fingers—there and then gone all too quickly.

He slid a hand across the mattress, feeling the remnants of someone else’s warmth there. The hotel room was silent though, and he was thankful to be alone once again.

He exhaled loudly into the empty room before slowly sitting up, waiting for the inevitable spinning to commence. He blinked slowly as he placed his feet on the floor before he stood up, swallowing to get any kind of moisture back into his dry mouth. The air in the room smelled stale and was cold on his bare skin, causing him to shiver as he stumbled to the bathroom.

After a much-needed shower, he felt a bit better. He wiped condensation off of the mirror to assess the damage. There was little evidence of the night, except for a few pink scratches across his chest and shoulders, easily covered by a t-shirt.

He got dressed and then decided to open the blinds of the hotel window, blinking quickly at the sudden onslaught of light, despite the gray clouds covering the sky. He bet it would snow later. 

He looked over the Chicago skyline, once his home. He had thought it would always be his home, but now he felt like a stranger to himself. This city felt unfamiliar to him, as if he was seeing it through new eyes.

He was 27 and felt lost. He didn’t have his band, he didn’t have his short-lived solo career…He had nothing really. Or at least, that’s how it felt. He felt hopeless and empty and misguided.

He ran a hand through his hair, slightly dry now but for a few droplets of water still clinging to the strands. He had recently gone back to his natural mousy brown, having felt defeated every time he glimpsed platinum blonde.

He suddenly remembered Pete’s fascination with 27, how he had believed he wouldn’t make it to 28, was destined for a membership to the exclusive 27 club. But he had made it. And Patrick… 27 was not treating him kindly but he was sure he would get through this, no matter how much he felt he was being pulled back.

He’d never felt this way before. He felt heavy and listless, the ground he stood on crumbling beneath him, weighted ropes around his limbs trying to pull him under no matter how much he pulled against them.

 

Patrick swiped a hand across his mouth, sweat beading on his forehead, thinking about going downstairs and getting a drink. He was on the elevator before he knew it, halfway down to the ground floor when he checked the time, noting that it wasn’t even noon yet. The thought of whiskey now made his stomach turn—maybe he’d get a coffee instead.

He glanced at the bar as he entered the hotel restaurant, a few people already with drinks in hand—he longed to join them. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to that bar and order a drink. He had to hold on to some self-control.

He sat at a small table not too far from the bar though and glanced over the menu that was already there, thinking about maybe ordering something to eat to settle his stomach when a loud thud of glass on wood sounded from the bar.

Normally he wouldn’t have paid attention to the blonde attempting to get drunk at 11 in the morning, but as she threw back a shot of something clear, she turned around and their eyes locked. A sneer formed on her face and she laughed in a mocking way.

“Of fucking course.”

He hardly recognized her through the displeased look on her face, but it was definitely her.

“Nora.”


	3. It's something wrong with me

**2002**

Nora never had any luck with men—boys—she should call them what they are, because that’s how they acted in the end, like boys who thought they could just have whatever they wanted without any consequences. Though the only consequence only ever seemed to be losing Nora, and they didn’t seem too concerned about that.

She thought things would change when she met Pete. He was slightly older, 23 to her 19. She believed she had found someone who could truly understand her and who was actually mature, her previous boyfriends paling in comparison to Pete.

And for a while everything was great. Pete adored her, held her hand, kissed her the right way every time, made her feel more alive than she had in a while. She got along with his friends, especially Patrick.

If Nora wasn’t the way she was, she could have dated someone like Patrick—she just found Pete instead, who took her as she was. She remembered one night, with Pete, his lips against her throat hot and sweaty, he mumbled, “I think Patrick loves you.”

She just laughed and held Pete closer. But after that night she could see it in the way Patrick would look at her. She knew he saw perfection, but that just wasn’t her. 

She was far from perfect. Nora drank too much, flirted too much, dropped out of college, disappointed her parents, disappointed herself…

Perfection just didn’t exist in her world, and she wished it didn’t exist in anyone else’s because she knew eventually that she would just let them down.

She was always looking for happiness in the wrong places, hoping that her new choices wouldn’t lead to further disappointment. Honestly, she thought she deserved a break, that she’d finally find some semblance of happiness. 

But these things always reached their peak, tipping off the edge of a cliff faster than she could catch it. She found Pete buried between the legs of a different blonde. She found a half empty bottle of vodka to drown her sorrows. She found a sweet boy who adored her and she kissed him, hoping for a taste of something she could never have. She left him and everything behind, with only the bitter taste of liquor and a faint trace of mint on her tongue.

\---

**2011**

Not much in Nora’s life had changed over the last few years. She was still being let down and letting other people down. She just decided to care less about life’s disappointments as she had realized they just couldn’t be avoided no matter how hard you try.

Let’s take her fiancé for instance. A decent man, working as a lawyer making decent money—enough money to buy Nora a gorgeous diamond engagement ring which he gave to her 3 months ago when she returned from a work trip (she works in a local art gallery and was looking for new artists to showcase from other cities). And for once, Nora can’t help but think: _“Everything worked out perfectly.”_

But of course, she spoke too soon. She damns the moment she thought those words. Wish she could swallow them whole and make them disappear, but she thought them and now they’re stuck.

Three months after the engagement, she left the gallery tired and wanting to change into comfy clothes, but instead she decided to visit her fiancé at his office where she knows he’s working hard.

And she wishes she hadn’t, as anyone can tell where this is going. She should realize by now that her life is the definition of cliché. But she goes anyway, grabs some Chinese takeout from a place she knows he loves, and struts into his office, thinking about ditching the food and giving him something else to eat. 

Of course, there he is, pressed pants around his ankles sitting in his office chair with some bimbo straddling his lap, moaning like a cheap porn star—Chinese is definitely on the menu, just not takeout. 

“This is just perfect.” He jumps at my voice, and really “perfect” is the best word for this situation because of course this would happen to Nora.

He’s trying to stand up and she’s halfway to the elevator. He’s calling her name and she’s telling him to fuck off.

She’s in the back of a taxi before she knows it, goes to their apartment and collects some clothes. Finds his credit card on the counter where she left it after going grocery shopping the previous day. She takes it and finds the best hotel in town and checks into the nicest room she can get at the last minute. She enjoys the mini bar and watches re-runs of old sitcoms until she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, there’s no more humor in the situation. She cries, let’s the disappointment wash over her.

She eventually goes down to the hotel bar, not caring what time it is, orders a couple shots of vodka and downs them quickly one right after the other. Breakfast of champions—or losers. She felt more like a loser.

She turned around, thinking she might go buy some really expensive things with her former fiancé’s credit card until he caught on, but instead found herself face to face with someone she wasn’t expecting: That sweet boy who thought she was perfect.

“Of fucking course.”

She heard him utter her name and she wondered if he still thought she was so perfect—Nora wanted to prove him wrong.


	4. I know I'm bad news

**2011**

Out of all the things that Patrick ever imagined happening in his life, he never imagined that he would ever run into Nora again.

But there she was, staring at him with something close to malice in her eyes. He immediately felt guilt for never trying to stay in touch with her over the years… but there was nothing to be done about that now.

He could go up to her now, offer an apology, but those were only words. They had been pretty close for a short period of time, but he had just left without a trace and he had a feeling that whatever words came to him now just wouldn’t suffice. 

Yet she was still there, watching him carefully. He wondered if she even wanted an apology. She hadn’t run off, though the thought had at first seemed to cross her mind, showing on her face when they had locked eyes.

He stood slowly from his seat and made his way toward the bar, not knowing what he was going to do or say. All he knew was that he didn’t want her to leave. Not yet.

He felt like he was approaching a deer out in the wild, that any sudden movements or noises would scare her off.

And suddenly he was there, in front of her, and before he could even offer a greeting she was speaking to him, an obvious bite in her voice.

“Well, isn’t it the famous Patrick Stump, here to mingle with the easily forgotten.”

And suddenly she was a lioness, ready to tear out his throat.

“Nora, I—” he started to apologize, for what he wasn’t entirely sure. He knew he’d just be apologizing for his own guilt. As soon as he had started to speak, she had smiled immediately, sickly sweet.

“Save your breath, Patrick,” she said. “I’ve heard enough sorry’s to last me a lifetime.” 

Patrick stared at her helplessly, unsure of what to say. So he didn’t say anything. He knew if he opened his mouth, an apology would come out anyway. He was always apologizing—that’s just the way he is.

And Nora… She just stared back, waiting. For what, neither of them knew.

“You want a drink?” she finally asked, deciding that if he wasn’t going to say something, she would. She knew he was a good guy... well, that’s what she believed. But she was never any good at reading guys.

“S-Sure,” Patrick answered quietly. She watched as he quietly pulled out a stool next to the one she had been sitting on and sat on top of it. She got back onto her own stool and signaled to the bartender.

“I forgive you, Patrick,” she said, once drinks had been placed in front of them. She watched from the corner of her eye as his head shot up.

“What?” 

She glanced at him before picking up her drink to take a drink. She shrugged her shoulders.

“I forgive you,” she repeated. “I know you’re best friends with Pete and you guys got really busy after everything happened.”

She shrugged her shoulders again. She didn’t know what she was doing. Nora had wanted to keep up the appearances of being strong and confident, but really, as she sat at a hotel bar, drinking before noon with a friend from the past… but she knew she was breaking.

She glanced at Patrick again, as he stared down at his own drink, and hoped that maybe she could pull herself back together again.

“I am sorry,” Patrick said, finally. “And I now that’s not what you want to hear, but I have to say. There’s no excuse for abandoning you.”

“You didn’t abandon me,” she said. “We hardly even knew each other.”

“I still thought of you as a close friend,” he replied. “I just didn’t treat you like one.”

“It’s in the past now,” Nora said quietly. “Let’s just focus on the present. How are things going?”

Patrick turned to look at her, and she took an opportunity to really look at him now. There were dark circles under his eyes, and stubble on his chin, his eyes not as bright as she remembered. He shook his head slightly, frowning, and she offered him a knowing smile.

She raised her glass towards him and said, “Welcome to the club.”

“What club is that?”

“The ‘My Life Fucking Sucks’ Club.”


End file.
